Chapter 223

Winston's condition was far worse than Evelyn's.

The surgery lasted eight grueling hours, and his recovery had been rocky. Now another critical emergency struck.

Lance trembled as he watched Winston being wheeled back into the OR. He still hadn't formulated an answer to Evelyn's earlier question.

But fifteen minutes later, he made his decision.

To hell with Melissa Lee!

To hell with society's expectations!

His parents were progressive. Winston's had passed years ago. Their families had plenty of heirs—no need for him to carry on any bloodline.

Those pushy relatives only wanted profitable marriages.

Why couldn't they live for themselves?

Red-eyed, Lance told Evelyn his choice.

She regarded him calmly. "If that's your decision, the Kingsley Group will support you."

......

Lance had considered Alexander.

What tormented him most was that Winston and Alexander were natural rivals.

Different nationalities. Opposing stances. Competing empires.

Their mutual admiration was just a facade between equals.

Lance knew if Alexander were in trouble, Winston wouldn't lift a finger.

But Evelyn assured him that if Winston's business faced crisis, Alexander would intervene.

Lance credited that promise to Evelyn.

With this safeguard, he could finally love openly.

Who cared about the media storm?

No more hiding.

Even if they lost everything... as long as they had each other...

......

"Congratulations on getting your wish."

Evelyn suddenly looked toward the door.

Lance spun around, pupils dilating.

"W-Winston?" His voice shook.

He'd just come from the ICU.

The man in that bed was still tubed up, barely out of danger last night. Multiple compound fractures. Severe brain trauma...

How was he standing here unharmed?

"Problem is," Winston leaned against the doorframe, smirking, "I wanted to keep pretending a few more days—see you worry over me. But the longer the act, the worse the beating I'd get later..."

"You—" Lance whirled toward Evelyn.

She was already removing her oxygen mask, sitting up effortlessly.

"The crash was fake?" Lance's voice wavered.

"The crash was real," Evelyn said gravely. "Someone is critically injured—just not us."

"What... the hell... happened..." Lance braced against the wall, pale.

......

"We switched cars mid-route," Winston locked the door behind him. "Only the driver and bodyguards were in that one."

He clasped Lance's shoulder. "It was a trap."

His gaze shifted to Evelyn. "All Miss Sinclair's idea."

Evelyn arched a brow.

Typical Winston, deflecting blame. He'd contributed plenty when planning this.

But she didn't expose him.

"Melissa planted a spy beside Madeline Kingsley. She wanted me dead, so she had Mrs. Laurel convince the old lady to send me on that vacation—then strike en route."